EVERYDAY MAGIC: Midnight Poetry Sessions

Poetry. Whether words flow to the rhythm of flowers or fire, a few phrases unraveling the heart is nothing less than a small act of everyday magic.


BAJA: The Wild West

This morning I awoke at dawn to the gentle crashing of waves and the rush of Mexico’s Highway 1 outside my window. In many ways, this place is reminiscent of my hometown; all red tile roofs and palm trees and adobe walls painted white.

Sudden moments of clarity, awaken me from the parallels of home. A reminder that this place is foreign.

A HUI KAUA: A Short Story

Hawaii. The island in the South Pacific feels more like a person than a place. It greets her like an old friend, an aloha, after lifetimes of a hui kaua, until we meet again.

NOMADS OF THE SEA: The Pacific Northwest

I left a piece of my heart somewhere again- wandering the through Pike Place Market, steaming cup of spiced rum apple cider in hand, the chill of the Pacific Northwest sending deep breaths of salty, crisp air into my lungs.

CASTLE ON A HILL: Capturing California’s Central Coast

California’s sleepy central coast has always held somewhat of an inexplicable love affair. Its rolling, golden hills juxtaposed by rugged ocean bluffs form a blissful blanket of solitude, where, if only for a moment, one is swept worlds away from the rampant hustle of Los Angeles and San Francisco.

DEAR OCEAN: A Tribute to the Sea

Summertime in my hometown has always been something special. There’s a palpable magic in the air, lingering in the golden sunsets and warm sea and gentle breezes. Wandered down to my favorite beach the other evening, Canon and notebook in hand, and captured some of the magic. Dear Ocean, I just wanted to take a…

ADRENALINE: A Surfer’s Tale

The ocean is ancient. Formed on this earth 2.6 billion years ago in a crash of lightening and chemicals. A surge of molecules-

And now, in this moment, we’re riding it.

A force of nature as old as time itself, and we’re taking it on with nothing but fiberglass, neoprene and adrenaline.

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN: Hiking Yosemite’s Mist Trail

It taps into something carnal; the relentless thunder of water plummeting 3,300 feet to collide with granite, an ominous mist clouding the air, drops of fresh water wetting a hiker’s skin, mixing with the salty sweat dripping from their brow, the sierra sun beating down on their back, quads burning from balancing atop lichen-coated stone, lungs drinking in pine-laden air.


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